


Sands of Time

by Spineless



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Archaeology, Canon Compliant, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Parental Roy Mustang, Post-Promised Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 15:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spineless/pseuds/Spineless
Summary: Edward investigates an ancient temple for his research and finds himself hurt and stranded when an anti-Ishvalan group blows it up on top of him. At least his friends are here to help. Hurt/Comfort





	Sands of Time

**Author's Note:**

> For my wife 
> 
> -
> 
> Takes place about 8 months after the end of the series (Roughly 3 years after the Promised Day)

A call from _Mustang_? Ed knows it must be a big deal. He presses the phone to his ear.

They found an ancient temple beyond the outskirts of old Ishvala, where the land starts to transition into true desert, General Bastard tells him over the phone. “A small temple,” he specifies, “Most of the walls are still standing. But it’s old. And parts of it remind me of those ruins in the desert.”

At the mention of Xerxes, Ed grips the pen in his hand tighter and feels his pulse pick up. “You really do have impeccable timing sometimes, Colonel.” He swears he can hear Mustang sigh. “I was planning on passing through Ishvala soon, actually. I’m headed to Xing to meet up with Alphonse.” It’ll be the first time he sees his brother in nearly a year.

“So I’ve heard, actually.”

“Alphonse writes you?” Edward had ceased in his own writing, his pen hovering over the blotter on his desk. 

“No need to sound entirely surprised. Ishvala is one of the farthest eastern points in Amestris after all.”

He dipped his pen into the inkwell. Of course Alphonse wrote Mustang. He probably wrote everybody–Havoc, Mustang, Fuery, even Falman. Sometimes Ed wasn’t sure how much research his brother was actually getting done in Xing, with all the letters he writes. He has to write Al as soon as he’s off the phone. This detour in Ishvala and the desert could tack weeks onto the journey or more, depending on what he found. 

“Right. Got it. I have to make some more calls, but I’ll let you know soon the earliest I can meet you in Ishvala.”

“All right. I’ll be seeing you, Fullmetal."

* * *

 

Edward spends the journey east reading and rereading his notes and the few texts he was bringing along with him. The news of this Xerxian temple made his heart spin when he thought about it for too long. For months he’s been learning all he can about Xingese alkahestry through his military research resources, as well as collecting the little existing information on ancient Amestrian alchemy. He’s not going to pretend that the stories of the Philosopher of the West and the Sage of the East, illustrated as a hooded golden being, don’t makes his heart catch in his throat. It was hard to conceive that his father, Van Hohenheim, and this mythical figure were all the same person. He wondered how Al felt about it, but never asked in any of his letters sharing bits of what he was learning. Soon there would be time to talk.

One of the main goals of his research is to compare ancient alkahestry with ancient alchemy and see what he can learn about Xerxian alkhemestry. He’s hoping Al’s own research will be able to help him. Many of the Amestrian texts on Xing and Xingese alkahestry he gathered were poorly translated, like it wasn’t a hard enough subject to understand. 

Maybe, if he knows where alchemy comes from, he can get an idea as to where it can go. 

The hunger to learn, to answer his questions, to _know_ –it kept him up at night. Sometimes he would just lay in bed and think about symbols and characters and letters for hours, unable to sleep, circular and hexagonal arrays flashing behind his closed eyes when he tried. It was an urge not dissimilar to that he experienced searching for a way to regain their bodies. But this time, all that was at stake was more knowledge. 

* * *

Edward doesn’t know if he’d really call the temple _small_. It’s definitely smaller than that church in Liore, but it reminds him in scale of the open hall where he completed his first examination to become a state alchemist. He knows that he’s gaping, and that he should probably show a modicum more of dignity in front of Mustang and the others, but for once he can’t bring himself to care. He reaches out to touch on of the columns near the entrance. All four of the main exterior walls are mostly intact, and less than a quarter of the ceiling has crumbled away, but much of the building is covered with dirt and plant life, obscuring some details. 

He takes notes in his journal on what reminds him of the ruins of Xerxes: the columns along the exterior, what remains of the pediment, the shallow front stairs. The building is much more crudely made than the buildings he’d seen in Xerxes, and there was something in its general shape that reminded him of the Ishvalan ruins. But an Ishvalan temple this certainly was not, made obvious by the transmutation arrays interspersed with alchemic runes painted on three of the walls. 

“How did you find it?” Edward asks when he can finally talk, looking up and outward into the space. Mustang and Hawkeye came inside with him while Havoc and a few other soldiers patrolled outside and scouted an area to set up camp. 

Mustang is smirking slightly, clearly very pleased with himself, and Hawkeye behind him rolls her eyes. “I heard rumors. Some of the elders were telling stories of an ancient temple with unreadable marks past Ishvala, into the desert. I thought they were talking about Xerxes at first, but it wasn’t as far. I think they only knew about it as _not_ to go. You know how the religion feels about alchemy. But once we started looking, it didn’t take long to locate it.”

Ed nods and jots a few notes into his field journal. His mind is racing. He needs to see if the military will give him more resources to study this – he knows there are at least some alchemy scholars at the library that would be interested in coming down and helping him record this stuff, and he _needs_ to record this place. He has to get Sheska here to sketch it with him, especially the runes and the arrays, and the facade out front. They have to be careful. And he needs to write Al _immediately._ They have to postpone their joint Xing expedition for a little while. He’s almost thrumming in anticipation with what has to get done, and with the thrill of what’s been discovered. 

“So, Fullmetal, what do you think?” Mustang has his arms folded across his chest and Ed can tell he’s trying to ignore the sweat dripping down the side of his face. 

He opens his mouth to answer. “It’s…” The key to his research. An incredibly important discovery for Amestrian history as well as the history of alchemy as a whole. What was a Xerxerianesque temple doing so close to Ishvala? His thrumming increases. He can’t wait to start decoding those runes and circles. “Wait.” Ed frowns. That thrumming… it isn’t imagined. “What’s th––"

There’s an incredible clap of sound and the ceiling caves in. 

* * *

Xerxes must have been beautiful. 

“ _Fullmetal!_ ”

In Ed’s dreams, the ruins he visited out in the desert are whole; there are no crumbling walls and fallen columns. The streets are cleaned of debris but empty of people. He wanders through alleyways and courtyards, around forums and squares, lingers in doorways and thresholds. The sun is always mercilessly beating down but he never feels its heat.

“ _Ed, where are you?_ ” 

“ _Chief! If you can hear us, say something!_ ” 

Well, he _usually_ never feels the heat, but occasionally it does feel like he’s being dissolved into white-hot light. Not lit on fire, but becoming fire. He figures this is what it must feel like to die a million deaths at once.

“Edward!”

* * *

There are people calling his name. Upon regaining consciousness, Ed’s first instinct is to gasp in pain. Gasping proves to be difficult because breathing is difficult. There’s something stopping his ribcage from expanding enough for him to take a deep breath. This pressure jolts him into another tier of awareness and, disoriented, he opens his eyes.

“ _Edward!_ Come on, Fullmetal.”

He’d recognize Mustang’s bellows even if he recognized nothing else. He groans, not exactly of his own volition. 

“Did you hear that?” Hawk sounds slightly closer by. “It sounded like… Ed, if you can hear me, make a noise.” 

He’s glad he’s being told what to do for once, because thinking through the haze in his head and the amount of pain he’s in is hard. He goes to move his legs but freezes when he hears shifting above him. He manages a sound between a gasp and a groan.

“ _There_! I see him!” 

“Fullmetal, we’ll get you out. Don’t move.” 

Ed wants to say something like _Aye, aye, General_ or _Wasn’t really planning on it,_ but he’d have to get his mouth working first, and he’s pretty sure it’s full of dust and sand. He groans again instead, something he’s been getting really good at lately. He knows somebody keeps talking to him, but most of what they say gets swallowed by the noises of slabs of stone and compacted dirt being moved. He thinks, with some despair, that at least the ceiling hadn’t fallen in one huge sheet and crushed them all instantly. There was always that. 

There’s someone touching his face and neck. He opens his eyes again just as Hawk tucks back his bangs. Her face is filthy and theres a deep, bloody gash on her forehead over her right eye. Her eyes widen as they meet his and she gasps lightly in surprise. “Edward!” 

“Is he waking up?” That was Havoc. 

“His eyes are open.” She turns back to him. “Hey, Ed. Can you hear me? Do… do you know who I am?” 

“H.” His tongue feels disgusting. He tries again. The pressure on his back has lessened slightly, but it’s still hard to breathe. “H. Hawk. Hey.” 

“Chief! We’ve almost got you out. How’re you feeling?” 

“H.” Edward grits his teeth. “Hard. To. T-Tell.” 

“Alright, Chief, this is the last one. Hang in there.”

After a few moments there’s the distinctive sound of rock grating on rock, and the weight against his body has vanished. Edward gasps in relief, his breathing coming fast and hoarse. It’s almost impossible to focus on anything _but_ breathing and he greedily sucks in air. “Easy, Edward, easy.” Hawk rubs the back of his neck.

“We gotta move him.”

“I don’t know if it’s safe – we don’t know how badly he’s hurt. Can we send one of the men to fetch a doctor?”

“We’re at least 20 km from the Ishvalan border, and it’s another twenty from there to the main outpost. Night will fall soon. We’ll have to camp here tonight and make our way back at first light.”

“And what if Ed can’t make the trip? Horseback isn’t an easy ride.” It sure is interesting to be the subject of a conversation he can’t participate in. He tries to focus on slowing his breathing. 

“Then some of us will stay and some of us will send for a medic. There isn’t much we can do either way.” Captain Bastard, always a bastard, with such optimistic things to say. “Fullmetal, are you awake?”

Ed lightly clenches his left fist. “Colonel.” His voice is quiet. 

”Stay with us.”

* * *

They packed enough rations for two nights away and thankfully, blessedly, their supplies was unharmed. The soldiers continue to clear away more debris from the temple floor and widen their new camp while Hawk, Mustang, and Havoc attend to Edward. Really it’s Jean doing the actual attending since he has the most medical training, and Riza and Roy mostly fetch him water and materials while looking on nervously. They had made Edward a bed using all the bedrolls they had, but lifting him onto it had caused him to cry out. It was the sound you make when you’re trying really hard not to make any sounds. 

“I hope you don’t remember most of this, Chief,” Havoc murmurs as he measures and cuts bandages. “For your sake. With that bump on your head, I won’t be surprised if you don’t.” Ed’s upper body is one big contusion, front and back, with multiple broken ribs. His automail leg had bore the brunt of a chunk of ceiling which meant his flesh leg was mostly unscathed – but to Jean, the lighter desert automail just looked mangled. He doesn’t know much about the mechanics of automail, but the severed beams and wires do not look promising. That was what would probably upset Ed the most.

Edward checks out while the world moves around him. He falls into a light doze and every so often Havoc or Hawkeye will tap his cheek and call his name. Sometimes when he first opens his eyes he can’t hear them for a few seconds and will just watch the movement of their lips and the widening of their eyes until he grunts or moans or otherwise acknowledges their existence. Havoc keeps forcing him to drink water, like constantly, but sitting up and swallowing hurts. At one point once the sun is on its way down and Mustang has already built a lasting fire, Edward doesn’t sit up far enough when he has a drink and ends up coughing it all up. Now coughing _hurts_. He chokes on his breath and chokes on the water and his ribs and head shriek _._ His vision goes grey for a moment until he remembers how to take deep breaths. 

He knows he keeps scaring the crap out of his friends. 

“Hey, Jean?” he asks. He’s flipped onto his back to give his front a break for a little. This position hurts more, but the night sky is clear and ablaze with millions of stars. 

“What’s up Chief?” 

“Can I go to sleep now?” He was really, really tired.

“Yeah, Ed. Get some sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my archaeology and classical civ classes. I binged FMAB in less than a week and I have fallen head over heels for it. 
> 
> There will probably be one more chapter after this. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated, especially since this is my first FMA fic!!


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